


A Soul Which Lives Forever

by agrajag



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bottom Richie Tozier, Excessive use of italics, Gay Bar, Gay Richie Tozier, Getting Together, Hopeless Romantic Richie Tozier, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mermaids, Richie Tozier Has a Big Dick, Wheelchairs, graphic descriptions of wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agrajag/pseuds/agrajag
Summary: [Richie] probably shouldn't have been surprised, but the beach was absolutely gorgeous. The sun had just started setting and it was all purples and dark blues reflecting off the surface of the ocean, and [he] found that he couldn't tear his eyes away ---- which would explain how he hadn't noticed the body until he was eating sand.He frantically spit out said sand as he attempted to push himself up, but it was kind of hard considering, you know,sand.Abandoning any dignity he may have had left, he rolled over until he was no longer tangled with whatever it was that he tripped on (we're getting to the fact that it was abody) and he was feeling very much like a turtle stuck on their back, but it was definitely an improvement.And that's when he finally looked over to see what it was that he had tripped over and screamed when he saw that it wasa fucking body!
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	A Soul Which Lives Forever

**Author's Note:**

> asked for a prompt to write some porn and ended up with 15k of mostly fluff but hey! it's summer and this is a summery story!
> 
> also i felt it wasn't enough to warrant a tag, but richie does drive after having a few drinks, but it is mentioned he was mostly sobered up before having just a beer before leaving the bar
> 
> title taken from the original little mermaid story because in this house we are a living cliche

Richie had never thought he'd find himself living in Los Angeles. Even through all the years day dreaming of being a famous comedian (when he was supposed to be doing homework, when he was riding the bus, when he was in the shower) he had assumed he'd be living in New York City, but hey. That's what he got for watching so much Seinfeld with Stan. And he _had_ lived in New York City for awhile as he worked on building up his career.

But he was a a comedic _actor_ now. He had a _manager_ even, and said manager told him the move to L.A. made the most sense.

Even if Richie had to travel for every shoot because it turned out only, like, 5% of movies were actually shot _in_ Hollywood.

So despite having lived in L.A. for about six months, he had barely spent any time there. Definitely not enough time to make any friends he'd feel comfortable going out with on this fine Friday evening, and he wasn't so pathetic (yet) that he was going to go out drinking alone, and so he found himself walking along the beach near his house. 

('Bungalow,' Steve, his manager's, voice so helpfully provided in his head.)

Because of course he had to be pretentious as possible and go for some beach front property. He wasn't a millionaire or anything, but he had made a decent bit of cash from all the stand up gigs over the past decade. Why shouldn't he spend it on a private beach? Who are you? You're not his mom. His mom loved his bungalow.

But the thing was, having spent so much time traveling for the two movies he had been filming, his mom had actually spent more time on his beach than Richie had. He probably shouldn't have been surprised, but the beach was absolutely gorgeous. The sun had just started setting and it was all purples and dark blues reflecting off the surface of the ocean, and Richie found that he couldn't tear his eyes away --

\-- which would explain how he hadn't noticed the body until he was eating sand.

He frantically spit out said sand as he attempted to push himself up, but it was kind of hard considering, you know, _sand_.

Abandoning any dignity he may have had left, he rolled over until he was no longer tangled with whatever it was that he tripped on (we're getting to the fact that it was a _body_ ) and he was feeling very much like a turtle stuck on their back, but it was definitely an improvement.

And that's when he finally looked over to see what it was that he had tripped over and screamed when he saw that it was _a fucking body_! The first thing he noticed was the fin and he was just starting to let out a sigh of relief thinking that it was just some poor shark that had washed up on shore, but then he noticed that attached to the fin was a human torso.

And so he screamed again.

He would freak out about the fact that apparently mermaids existed and there was one laying on his beach later, but at the moment there was a slightly more pressing matter at hand. The mermaid was bleeding from an open wound in his chest. Like, seriously, Richie was pretty sure he was seeing that layer of skin that Frank had been flayed down to in Hellraiser. The mermaid was still breathing, but it was raspy and shallow, so Richie had to act fast. Once he had managed to calm himself down enough, he whipped off his shirt and pressed it to the wound. Then he squatted down so he could get his arms underneath the mermaid and lift him up.

_Damn_ , he was heavier than he looked. Well, that had been going by his skinny upper torso. Richie should have realized the tail would weight a ton. Weren't fish known for being super heavy? Like, that's why fishermen always posed with two guys holding the catch of the day, right?

Yeah, so when life threw him curve balls, she really went _all_ out.

He eventually made it back to his bungalow, gently setting the mermaid on the dining room table before running to the bathroom. Despite being one of the clumsiest people in the history of mankind, he didn't have a designated first aid kit, so he grabbed whatever he could find that might help. And then just hoped that he knew enough from watching cheesy action flicks during most of his adolescent years to make it work.

Disinfect the wound. He knew that much. Sure, he didn't have any rubbing alcohol, so he had to use some Jack Daniels, but it was essentially the same. As he wiped the blood away with the paper towels drenched with Jack, he let out a sigh of relief once he could tell the wound wasn't as bad as he had initially thought. It still wasn't ideal, but it shouldn't be deadly. Thankfully, he _did_ have some bandages and tape, so he was able to patch the mermaid up real good before forcing some Ibuprofen down his throat. Which oddly enough, was the grossest part of the whole process.

There. He had done all that he could. So, now it was a matter of sitting back and waiting to see if it was actually enough (because he wasn't a doctor and he didn't fucking know) and the mermaid would come to.

Meaning Richie was left alone with his thoughts and could finally freak out about the fact that mermaids fucking existed!

He took a few long pulls on the Jack, hoping that would ease his nerves a bit, but all it really accomplished was made him freak out in high definition.

He couldn't tell how long it was before the mermaid started to stir, but it was about however long it took to polish off half a bottle of whiskey. So, his speech was just _a little bit_ slurred when he said, "Hey there. How ya feelin'?"

It may have been the after effects of massive trauma and adrenaline and all that, but to the mermaid's credit, he didn't freak out.

"Like I just got impaled by a harpoon," he said, voice raspy but still oh so beautiful.

(Because of course Richie had noticed that everything about the mermaid was beautiful. He was a healthy gay man in his 30's, after all.)

"Is that what happened to you?"

"Yeah. It was my own fault for getting too close to the fishing boats."

"Trying to steal a snack?" Richie joked, but the mermaid just started at him, looking confused. "Uh, so, my name is Richie. What's yours?"

"Eddie."

Richie snorted, earning him a glare.

"Sorry. It's just... it seems like such a mundane name for a mermaid."

"Well, Richie is such a mundane name for a human," Eddie snapped back. He gasped, as if surprised he had done that, and his eyes softened as he said, "Thank you. For saving me. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't."

"Oh, no sweat man," Richie said with a shrug. "I'd be an irresponsible landowner if I had left you like that out on my beach."

"Your beach?" Eddie asked, tilting his head. "You can't own the beach."

"Yeah, I probably sound like such an asshole to the mermaid saying I own the beach. Wait." Richie sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. "That was sarcasm. Like, I actually _do_ feel a little bit like an asshole having bought this place."

"I know what sarcasm is, you know," Eddie said with a huff. "I also am aware of the concept of land ownership. I live in the ocean, not under a rock. But the point still stands that the beach isn't _yours_. You just have a piece of paper that says it does."

Richie laughed, his whole body shaking with it.

"Okay, so you _do_ get humor. That's good, because humor is basically like my whole thing."

"Strange," Eddie said, crossing his arms. "Because you haven't said one single funny thing yet."

"Wow, Eddie gets off another good one! You're going to run circles around me, aren't you? Oh, uh... Is it offensive to say that?" Eddie finally did laugh, but immediately winced and clutched his side. Richie reached out, placing a comforting hand over Eddie's. "Hey, be careful there. I didn't really do much. Just bandaged it."

Eddie leveled a look at him.

"A bandage? That's not exactly going to hold up in the water."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly have the supplies to stitch you up. But I can get them, obviously. I had to make sure you were alright first, of course. Though I've never had to stitch someone up before, so I don't think you'll want me doing that. But I can't exactly ask anyone else to help. I assume you don't want people knowing mermaids exist. Like, if you guys did, we'd all know by now, right?"

"Hey, take a break there before you run out of breath," Eddie said. He squeezed Richie's hand before moving it away gently so he could lay back down on the table. "That was _me_ being sarcastic. I probably won't need stitches. Mermaids heal differently than humans, but either way, I really shouldn't go back into the ocean so soon after being injured. As long as you're alright letting me stay here while I recover."

Richie nodded quickly.

"Absolutely! I would never dream of kicking you out. I mean, as long as you're alright being out of water for that long."

"Yeah, I'll be fine. We can stay on land for any amount of time, but obviously getting around is difficult when out of water, so we tend not to. Well, between that and not wanting to be discovered." Eddie paused and frowned. "Even if not all of us agree with that."

"Oh, are you like, Little Mermaid-ing it up? Is that how you know so much about humans and try to swim up to fishing boats?"

"Please don't word it like that," Eddie said with a groan. "Why is it every human I talk to has to mention that movie? I haven't even seen it, and I hate it."

"Noted. We'll just have to watch a different Disney movie tomorrow, then. Since you look like you're ready to pass out. I have a guest bed, which I promise is much more comfortable than the table. Do you want me to move you before you get some shut eye?"

"Oh, you... you don't have to do that," Eddie said, spluttering. His cheeks had turned as red as the scales of his tail and he very pointedly closed his eyes and gave an exaggerated yawn. "I think I'm good right here."

"If you're scared that I'm going to drop you, I promise I'm stronger than I look. I may have a pudgy stomach, but I have some pretty intense muscles from carrying groceries home." Richie jokingly flexed even though Eddie was still laying there with his eyes closed. Despite that, he still smiled softly. "I don't know how mermaids sleep usually, but I'm sure it's not on a hard table, right?"

"Okay, fine," Eddie relented. "If being carried all around wakes me up too much that I can't fall asleep, though, it'll be on you."

"Of course, but I assure you I won't jostle you around. You need to get your rest, after all."

Richie worked his arms under Eddie, and now that he wasn't worried that he was going to die in his arms at any second, he allowed himself to appreciate how he felt. How it felt holding Eddie in his arms. He wondered how it would feel to continue holding Eddie once he was resting safely in the guest bed. And then he stopped those thoughts, because it was _so_ inappropriate. It would be taking advantage of Eddie for him to make any sort of advancement after helping him in his moment of need. Even if Eddie wasn't interested in him, he'd feel obligated to return Richie's affections. And it sure was a long shot to think that Eddie would ever be interested in him, considering that they were literally different species, when you thought about it.

The guest room was right off of the kitchen, but it still felt like an eternity to cross the distance between the two rooms. Richie prayed that Eddie couldn't feel how fast his heart was beating, although he supposed he could explain that away as a side effect of the physical effort.

Once inside, Richie laid Eddie down on the bed and cringed when the caused dust to go flying everywhere.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I haven't lived here that long..." to which Eddie scoffed and quipped 'You could have fooled me' which Richie ignored. " _Not long enough_ to have guests over, so this room hasn't been used really. Except the one time my mom came to visit when I first moved in."

"I guess that would explain that all the decorations look as if they were picked out by an older woman."

"Yeah, I let her decorate since I figured she would be the only one using it. I didn't think that I'd be having a mermaid house guest over or I would have switched out all the embroidery with sea shells."

"You're still not very funny," Eddie muttered sleepily as he pulled the blanket over himself. "Now leave me alone. I thought you wanted me to get my rest."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Just give a shout if you need anything," Richie said as he backed out of the room.

He closed the door silently and leaned against it with a long, drawn out sigh before sliding to the ground. He wasn't feeling as desperate and confused as before, but now that Eddie was going to be sleeping for who knows how long, he had no idea what to do. He was sobering up, and normally would be feeling a little tired himself, but he knew that he wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon. With another sigh, he pushed himself up and went to work cleaning up the kitchen. It wouldn't do to have his table covered in blood, after all. That wouldn't do if he was going to make Eddie breakfast in the morning.

And there he went, thinking about Eddie as if he were a lover. No, that wasn't what he was doing. It was just common courtesy to make someone breakfast if they stayed the night at your house, duh. Even if the reason they stayed as your house wasn't exactly a common occurrence. If he wanted Eddie to get better, he was going to have to feed him, obviously.

He should focus on feeding himself first, he thought, as his stomach rumbled. He wasn't going to dwell on why it did so as he threw away the last of the bloody paper towels. When he glanced over at the digital clock on the stove, he realized that it had been over eight hours since he had his haphazard lunch. He had meant to have dinner at some point, but then he had decided to go to on his walk, and well. We all know how that turned out. So once he made sure there was definitely no more blood left, he pulled a loaf of bread, a knife, a jar of mayo, and a block of cheese out and made what was probably the world's most depressing sandwich.

He didn't bother putting the supplies away as he stuffed the sandwich into his mouth and made his way to his bedroom. He took the last couple of bites as he crawled under his blanket and passed out.

Richie would argue with anyone who implied that he was a mama's boy, but he was completely a mama's boy. When he had first moved into the bungalow, he had noticed that one of the bedroom's had the worst possibly placed window, and no matter how you set up a bed in there, you'd get the sun right in your face first thing in the morning. And yet, he had set up his stuff in that room, so that any guests (AKA his mom) using the guest room would have to deal with that inconvenience. 

The point was, he had recently been forced to become a morning person. He was up with the sun, quite literally, so he was surprised that it was already extremely bright in the room when he woke up the next day. For a moment, he forgot what had happened, and was trying to figure out what he had done that made him crash so hard. But it all came back quickly enough, and he yelped as he jumped out of bed and went running to the guest room. He froze, though, and then decided to gently knock before barging in.

"Uh, Eddie?" he asked tentatively. "Are you awake?"

"I am now," Eddie mumbled angrily from inside.

Richie took that as enough of an invitation to let himself in. Eddie was still tucked up in the blankets, but the tip of his fin was sticking out, so yeah. Richie didn't even get a chance to try and convince himself that Eddie wasn't actually a mermaid.

"Hey. Sorry to wake you there, bud. I was wondering if you'd like some breakfast? I'm feeling like making eggs. Uh, if I have eggs. I'm not entirely sure. I don't exactly cook that often."

Eddie's expression softened and then, the only way Richie could describe it, was he looked as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.

"I would love breakfast. It doesn't matter if you have eggs or not. I'll take whatever you can make."

"First time having human food?" Richie joked.

And then Eddie's expression changed once more, as he scowled at Richie before launching one of the pillows straight toward his head.

"Once again, I'm not a child. I have had human food before. Just..."

He mumbled the last part and Richie held his hand up to his ear as he said in a sing-song voice, "I didn't hear that."

"Just that this will be the first time it's not soggy or rotten," Eddie yelled. "Or both."

"Well, I'm glad that I can give that to you," Richie said, surprisingly sincere. "So, would you like to stay here while I cook? Or I can take you to the kitchen now? I mean, it's not exactly exciting to watch me scramble eggs, but you know."

"Yeah, I would like that. Better than being alone."

"Oh, yeah, I feel that," Richie said, because it felt only natural to be honest with Eddie.

He definitely wouldn't have ever admitted it was sometimes tough being alone with his thoughts to anyone else. Not even Stan or his mom.

Once again, he worked his arms underneath Eddie's tail, and lifted him up. It was a little easier this time since he had slept for a good ten or so hours and was feeling well rested. Still, he didn't waste any time and crossed the space between the guest room's bed and the kitchen table in three strides. After Eddie had assured him that 'yes, mermaids could sit, dumb ass,' he had sat Eddie down in a chair rather than sprawled out on the poor kitchen table. Which was good for Richie, because he didn't have the most counter space for preparing their breakfast. Not that scrambled eggs required much preparing (because thankfully it turned out that he _did_ have some eggs in the fridge). He still sat out all the supplies on the table so Eddie could watch what he was doing before he did have to turn around and use the stove top.

"Thank you," Eddie said as Richie started to mix the eggs around in the frying pan with the turner.

Richie glanced over his shoulder and said, "Hey. No need to keep thanking me. It's the least I could do."

"Well, this is me thanking you for showing me how it's done. It's fascinating."

"You really are interested in human culture, huh?" Richie asked as he sprinkled some salt and pepper into the eggs.

Not something he would normally do. He was getting fancy for Eddie.

"I guess it's more being interested in the unknown, and that just happens to be human culture, so don't think that you're special," Eddie joked. "But I will admit from what I've seen over the years, I did luck out that humans fit that bill since, like I said, you seem to be a pretty fascinating lot."

"Well, if you think me cooking is fascinating, just wait for everything else we'll get up to while you're healing." Richie cringed a little bit at how that could, slightly, be taken as a double entendre. He wondered if mermaids knew what a double entendre was, and if he was found out. But Eddie hadn't said anything to that. Richie could hear dishes cluttering behind him, meaning he was most likely too busy snooping through everything. "Hey, get one of those plates ready and I can serve you your eggs."

When Richie turned back around, Eddie was holding out his plate eagerly, and he laughed as he tossed some scrambled eggs onto it. He also had made sure there was some toast and (unfortunately) microwaved sausage links, but hey. It was a pretty sweet spread considering that usually he had raw Poptarts for breakfast.

"It looks delicious," Eddie said and then immediately started shoveling the food into his mouth. He made a few faces at first but still finished it in no time. "It's definitely different than what I'm used to, but it's good."

"I guess I should probably go to the store and stock up on fish, huh?" Richie teased as he worked on finishing his own breakfast. He figured it was probably best not to mention to Eddie that he was probably going to get hiccups with how fast he had eaten. "Or do you not eat fish? Like, are they too close to you in the food chain?"

"I would normally find that offensive, but I think I'm starting to realize that's just what you call your sense of humor," Eddie said and added, "And fish is totally fine, but I don't mind trying out different human foods. What would be the point of being stuck here for who knows how long?"

"Yeah. Stuck," Richie said, hoping he didn't sound as disappointed as he was. "Well, I still will have to make a grocery run either way. I hadn't been planning on entertaining, after all. I should probably go do that sooner rather than later. I don't want to be out when it gets all hot and humid, you know? I only just moved here, and I'm not exactly made for the hot weather. Um, I can move you into the living room so you can watch some TV while I'm gone, if you'd like that?"

"Oh, okay, That sounds good," Eddie said, although he didn't sound that enthusiastic.

He had probably just been put off by Richie's rambling. It wasn't the longest he'd ever ranted without taking a breathe, but he had literally managed to say all of that without breathing. It's kind of what he did when he was uncomfortable in a social situation. It made him an excellent stand up comedian, but not exactly the best friend.

Anyway, he felt as if there were thousands of spiders crawling under his skin, and he had to get out of the house for a little bit or he was going to _really_ embarrass himself in front of Eddie.

Despite the change in his mood, his heart still beat double time as he moved Eddie from the kitchen to the couch. He set him so he was lounging with his tail up on the cushions, and after giving him a quick rundown on how to work the remote, he practically ran out the door.

It didn't feel as if he breathed again until he walked into the grocery store and an arctic blast of air conditioner brought him back to reality. He gasped, and thankfully the other patrons must have taken one look at the chubby dude in the Hawaiian shirt, and just assumed that he really became that winded walking from his car to the store.

For the first time that he could remember, he actually grabbed a cart, and then he set out to buy all the supplies he would need to make the best human staples. More eggs, so he could be _real_ fancy and make omelettes some morning, but also all the sugary cereals he had loved as a kid. Tortillas, cheese, cilantro for tacos. Everything needed for the ultimate hamburger. Enough vegetables for twenty stir fries. Even something as simple as mac and cheese, but who didn't love mac and cheese?

And, of course, still lots and lots of fish.

Just in case Eddie ended up hating everything Richie made, which there was a strong possibility of that. Not even because of his taste buds, but because Richie wasn't exactly that used to cooking real meals. He had been surviving on take out and Hungry Man dinners since he had left for college. He had to admit, he missed cooking real meals, and he was kind of sad that it took a mermaid washing up on his beach to persuade him to cook. But, hey, did it matter how he got here?

By the time he was done shopping, he could barely push the cart to the register, but thankfully he made it. His heart was already weak, however, and he almost passed out with the cashier told him the total price after an eternity of scanning all the items.

"God, I would say this is why I stick to frozen dinners, but are they really _that_ much cheaper?" he mumbled as fumbled his wallet out of his cargo shorts.

The cashier seemed unimpressed with his bitching and simply swiped his card before handing it back over. Richie felt a little ashamed and wished that it wasn't weird to tip grocery store cashiers so he could make it up to her. He settled for getting the fuck out of her hair and huffing and puffing his way back to his car.

It felt like he was playing an intense game of Tetris, fitting everything into the trunk of his car, and he swore it took him even longer than the shopping had, but he eventually made it work. He almost died when he saw what time it was once he had gotten into his seat, and he may have sped a _little_ bit back to his bungalow.

He geared himself up for Eddie to ask him what had taken him so long, all snarky and beautiful, but he seemed to be completely engrossed in a comedy special on TV.

Holy shit, it was...

"My special," Richie said dumbly.

"Yeah, can you believe it just happened to be on something called Comedy Central?" Eddie asked, without looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I can believe that. Since I'm still not cool enough to have a Netflix special."

"You look really good in that purple color," Eddie continued, still staring intently at Richie on the screen. "You should dress up more often."

"Eh, why should I when it's only little old me?"

Finally, Eddie looked back at him. He was smiling, and Richie immediately felt better. He had been getting too in his head earlier, wasn't he?

"But it's not just you. I'm here, and I think you'd look nice." 

Oh, he definitely had been getting too in his head. God, he was an idiot. Eddie liked to tease just like he did.

"Well, if you want me in a tux to put away the groceries, your wish is my command, Eds," he said, giving an exaggerated bow.

Eddie laughed, reaching over to playfully swat at Richie's leg with his tail.

"I didn't say that. So, do you need help with anything?"

"Oh, well, I don't really think there's much you'll be able to do," Richie admitted. He didn't want to point out the fact that, you know, Eddie couldn't exactly walk. But it _was_ just the reality of the situation. "Besides, you should be resting, remember? Let me take care of the food, and then I can change out your bandage, okay?"

"I guess I can live with that. That just means I can finish watching you make a fool of yourself."

"Hey! I worked really hard on that special!" Richie yelled as he left the living room.

The thing was, he was proud of his career, but he definitely was in no hurry to watch himself on television. He put away everything that needed to be in the freezer or the fridge first and then found a spot for everything else. Unfortunately, since he hadn't ever fully stoked the kitchen, it once again took far longer than he had expected, but once he was done, he had such a feeling of accomplishment. Was that just how adults felt when they did normal adult things successfully?

Grabbing clean supplies, he headed back to the living room and got Eddie into a sitting position so he could change out the bandage. Eddie kept watching TV as he worked, although he had changed it to Cartoon Network by then. He kept giggling and Richie would have to scold him to sit still, which considering he could never sit still himself, felt a little hypocritical.

"You're really good at this," Eddie said, once the bandage was secure. "Were you a doctor before turning to a life of comedy?"

"No, only really good at being clumsy," Richie said with a laugh. "Now, I just bought enough food to feed an army. We should start making our way through some of that, so what do you want for lunch?"

"What I want is to help."

That wasn't what Richie had been expecting.

He scratched his chin as he made a mental inventory of the kitchen and it's layout.

"Oh, well, I guess we can find a way to make that work."

It wasn't easy, but between the two of them, they made a pretty damn good mac and cheese. It had been the final straw, though, and Richie admitted they needed other supplies besides food. He honestly should stop thinking with his stomach, he decided, as he pulled out his laptop. He ordered the best possible wheelchair he could for Eddie, almost paying the exact same amount to have it delivered by the next day, and then made a CVS run to get more bandages (plus all the other stuff he should have had in the first place).

As he had been leaving, Eddie told him to hurry back, saying he had taken 'an eternity' at the grocery store and that he hadn't liked being left alone for so long.

That gave Richie yet another mood boost, and he basically skipped through the pharmacy. And being in such a good mood, he figured they should celebrate Eddie's survival and subsequent recovery. Passing the liquor aisle, he stopped so he could add a bottle of champagne to his cart. Because it was totally safe to have alcohol right next to blood thinners in a store. But who was he to judge? When had he ever played it safe?

(Literally every day of his life until he publicly came out, but that was a different matter.)

But, yeah, one glass of champagne shouldn't be unhealthy for Eddie. Besides, he was a mermaid. For all Richie knew, their bodies worked differently and the champagne would help him! Though, he figured he should ask him first before he went and fed him a ton of bubbly.

So he asked Eddie, as he poured his own glass of champagne. Well, it was more like a mug of champagne, because he didn't have fancy champagne glasses. It wasn't as if he ever had occasions where they would be required. He was thinking about how he probably should start stocking up his house like a normal adult person, while Eddie started ranting about the state of health education in the schools of the deep. Which then led to a rant about mermaid school in general (which sounded about as useless as human public schools) and mermaid culture and their views on humans and then Eddie's mom in particular.

Richie quickly learned that Eddie's mom was incredibly over protective.

For his entire life, Eddie had to fight in order to do anything, because she'd insist it was too dangerous to go out. He'd catch a cold, he'd get attacked by humans, he'd get lost.

"Like I don't know north from south," Eddie had said, rolling his eyes.

" _I_ don't know north from south," Richie had countered.

He had no shame about it, either. In fact, one could even say he had been boasting when he said it.

Eddie had simply rolled his eyes once more, even harder, if that was possible.

"Mermaids have a built in sense of direction, dickwad. Anyway, it's always something with her. Currently it's all about how my friends are a bad influence."

"Oh, well, you're hanging out with me, so no offense, but I bet your mermaid friends _are_ probably bad influences."

"Do you want me to hit you again?" Eddie had threatened, although he had made no move to actually do so. Much to Richie's dismay, because he had actually quite enjoyed the last time that Eddie had slapped him with his tail. His scales felt _cool_. "My friends are completely respectable mermaids. It's just that, the last time I convinced my mom to let me go out with them, we were attacked by Henry Bowers."

"Oh, I already don't like the guy just from hearing his name."

"Yeah, he was our childhood bully, and he honestly has just gotten worse as we got older. Well, to make a long story short, the clown bit me."

Eddie had pointed to the scar on his cheek. Richie had wondered about it, thinking that this might not have been Eddie's first tussle with a fishing boat, because the scar was as ragged as the wound on Eddie's chest. But now that he had mentioned it, it was pretty clearly teeth marks nestled in the dimple of his cheek.

"Fuck yeah. What a clown," Richie had said, nodding dumbly, because all he could think about was wanting to kiss Eddie's cheek, even though the wound was healed.

He _could_ kiss Eddie's chest, then. He wasn't picky.

"No, like, he's actually part clown fish," Eddie had clarified, and Richie had started laughing so hard he knocked over his mug.

Good. He had already drank far too much champagne, while Eddie had only had a few sips from his mug, so he must have looked like a proper fool. So Richie had to unfortunately admit it was time they hit the hay. Eddie had looked as disappointed as Richie felt, so he had allowed himself to not feel guilty as he nuzzled into Eddie's neck as he moved him into the guest room.

Though he did feel a little guilty once he had climbed into his own bed. Normally, if he had been drinking as much as he had been, he would have passed out immediately since he practically was already an old man.

But now he was stuck laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, worrying that he had gone too far. And yet, despite that worry, he _still_ kept remembering how soft Eddie's neck had been and how all he wanted was to bury his nose there forever.

Man, if only his fans knew what a stupid hopeless romantic he was. Sure, he had come out and was honest in his stand up, but that didn't stop his jokes from being dirty. Only now instead of talking about fucking his made up girlfriend, he was talking about getting fucked by his boyfriend. Who was also made up, because he hadn't had time to get a boyfriend, and despite his trashmouth, he wasn't usually one for hook ups. He would every once in awhile, but he hadn't since his last tour had started. So he was balls deep into yearning mode, and he told himself that was why he was so ready to throw it all away for the _fucking mermaid_ he had _just met_ and who was asleep in his guest room.

Except, apparently Eddie was also having trouble sleeping. It was faint at first, and Richie ignored it, but yeah... no. That was definitely someone yelling his name, and who else could it be other than Eddie?

Richie was up and running to the guest room before you could say 'whipped.'

But what if Eddie had rolled over and tore at his wound? This could be an extremely serious situation, so _of course_ Richie rushed to Eddie's side.

At first glance, his bandages were still clean, but maybe he had just gotten their quickly enough that Eddie hadn't started bleeding badly. He went to reach out and touch the bandages, but Eddie grabbed his wrist and effectively stop Richie from probably rubbing a bunch of germs all over him. Which, yeah, that was a smart idea, but instead of then letting Richie's wrist go, Eddie thread their fingers together.

"Are... are you okay?" Richie managed to ask around the lump in his throat.

"I mean, physically, yes. I'm okay. I'm sorry if I scared you," Eddie said, actually looking rather sorry for sending Richie into a panic. "I just... I can't sleep. I don't... I can't do anything without you here. It's too quiet."

"I, uh, I'd think being quiet would be the optimum setting for a good night's sleep," Richie said dumbly.

Like, as if he didn't know that white noise machines were a legitimate thing.

Thankfully, Eddie ignored his dumb comment.

"There's always noise in the ocean. The water rushes past your ears and living there, you almost forgot that it's not part of you. Every time I come up, I'm surprised by how quiet it is. It doesn't bother me too much, though, but this time... I've never been out of the water this long, and it's starting to get to me."

"That sounds beautiful. The ocean. I'm sure I could find some ocean sounds thing on Spotify and leave my phone here, if you want."

"I think that might just make me a little bit more homesick," Eddie said, pulling Richie closer. Because they were _still_ holding hands, oh my God. "I just... Can you stay here? And talk? I spent the whole evening telling you about me. I want to know about you."

"Oh. Okay." 

Richie let himself fall down next to Eddie, shuffling under the blankets, and got comfortable before he started talking. He talked about his family, and Stan, and growing up in a small town. He complained about Los Angeles, which Eddie teased him about, because of course he mentioned that he hadn't actually spent that much time there yet. And then, naturally, he talked about his comedy career. The days starting out in small, dingy clubs. Hiring ghost writers for awhile when he was still in the closet and how liberating it felt firing them as he and his management team prepared for his coming out.

"It's amazing that everyone was so accepting," Eddie said, sounding almost sad.

"Well, not everyone, but the people who supported me made it all worth it. Now I just have to actually make time to go out and live my big, gay life."

"Mermaids still think that sex is only for reproduction," Eddie explained. "And friendly love is more important in our society than romantic love, so those of us who are... I didn't even know there was a word for someone like me."

Wow. And now Richie was crying. Sure, he may have been closeted for most of his life, but at least he had known he wasn't alone.

"Yeah, Eds. There's lots of words for us," Richie said as he sniffed. "Though not all of them are good. Well, you can reclaim some of them if you want. That's not all important right now. We can get into all of that another time. But you should know there's a whole community out there, too. A vibrant community, who will welcome you with open arms."

Eddie looked over at him, with big, pleading doe eyes, and Richie already knew he was going to say yes to whatever it was he was about to ask.

"Will you take me to the community? When my wheelchair arrives?"

"The community isn't like... you know what?" Richie shook his head. "Sure. I'll take you. I was gonna have to check out LA's gay scene sooner or later, anyway. As long as your feeling up to it. A lot of the gay scene involves dancing and drinking. At least, that's how it was in New York."

"Thanks Richie," Eddie said with a yawn, which was so cute it should be illegal.

But what stopped Richie's heart was the kiss Eddie left on his cheek before sleep overtook him.

He wasn't going to survive this, was he?

He woke up to find Eddie's tail intertwined with his legs and his head resting on Richie's chubby pec. He couldn't let himself read too much into any of it, even though Eddie _was_ gay. Because he _had_ said mermaids valued their friendships, so he probably cuddled with all his friends (when he could see them).

That wasn't going to stop Richie from enjoying it for a moment longer before getting up.

Sadly, nature called, so Richie did eventually (and extremely carefully) extract himself so he could take a piss. He was just putting on a pot of coffee when someone started pounding on his front door. Still only truly half awake, he stumbled with the mug filled only with milk and sugar to open the door. He was surprised to see the delivery guy looked so happy despite having practically beat down Richie's door. But, yeah, he was smiling brightly as he held out a clipboard with a form attached to it for Richie to sign. And then in a sing-song voice, he instructed some other guys on the truck to unload the wheelchair.

It was taking them a moment, the thing probably extremely heavy now that Richie was thinking about it, so the guy turned to him and asked, "Mother or father?"

"Huh?" Richie asked. God, he was _really_ wishing that he had his coffee. It was probably done by now and getting cold while he was standing there.

Like, did he even need to be there for this? He could leave the door open for them to bring the wheelchair in.

"The chair. Is it for your mother or father? I usually sell these models to people preparing to take care of their parents," the guy explained. "Nice design when it comes to independence, you know. But I could be wrong."

"Oh, uh, yeah. No. It's for my..." His _what_ exactly? He should lie and say just a friend. He should have just agreed with the guy and said either his mother or father. But it wasn't like he was ever going to see him ever again. So his stupid, traitorous mouth provided, "my boyfriend, actually."

The delivery guy smiled once more and patted Richie on the back as the other two guys wheeled the box into his entryway.

"Well, the best of luck to your boyfriend adjusting to his new wheelchair. You have a nice day, Mr. Tozier."

"Mr. Tozier is my dad," Richie mumbled instinctively, because he had been an adult for over a decade and it still felt weird to be called mister, but the men had already left his house so it didn't matter.

Ignoring the wheelchair for the time being, he stumbled back into the kitchen, poured the only slightly cooled down coffee into his mug, and then decided to add a little more sugar for good measure. He chugged the first mug so fast he barely had time to register it burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth, but he could feel the sting as he poured his second cup. Fine, so his worry of it being cold when he finished with the delivery men was unfounded. Whatever. 

He set the second cup aside so it could cool a little more and then got to work unpacking the wheelchair. He wanted to have it all set up by the time Eddie was awake. He was a little nervous that it was going to be extremely complicated and would take him forever, but it was essentially ready to go once he had removed all of the packing stuff. You know, that lame stuff that wasn't packing peanuts, but he figured that at least it didn't make as much of a mess as the little peanuts did. The clean up was easy enough and, grabbing his mug after he had thrown the packing stuff into the garbage can, he pushed the newly unveiled wheelchair toward the guest room.

"Rise and shine, Eds!" he said, knocking on the door.

A muffled, "Don't call me Eds," came through the door... followed by a softer, barely there, "You can come in."

Richie burst through the door, probably smiling like a madman, and did the most ridiculous looking jazz hands.

"Guess what just got delivered?" he asked, as if that was even a real question.

Eddie's eyes lit up as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. The blanket that had previously been pulled up to his chin fell down, revealing his toned chest, and even with the bandage in the way, Richie still felt himself swoon at the sight. God, he was disgusting. The poor guy was still healing and he was checking him out.

"Really? Does that mean we can go out?"

"Of course. Though we should eat first and then I'm going to change your bandage. And you _have_ to tell me if you're still feeling up to it after that."

Eddie shook his head so violently, Richie was worried he was going to give himself a headache.

"Cross my heart," he said, and it was so adorable, Richie wanted to die.

"Alright. Okay, gimme one second. I wanted to fully appreciate your look of surprise and therefore the wheelchair is still out here. Which maybe was silly since I'd be bringing it in here anyway."

Eddie's laughter followed Richie all the way out into the hallway, where he had left the wheelchair, and he mumbled, "Yeah, yeah. Yuk it up." as he came back and set Eddie up in the chair. It was surprisingly harder to get a good hold on Eddie in a sitting position so he could plop him down in the chair. What Richie assumed was his butt was just, like, part of his tail and had no discernible definition and he wasn't quite sure how to set him down. Sure, he had set him into one of the kitchen chairs, but that had only been for breakfast and not the entire day. He wanted to make sure that Eddie was going to be comfortable, and he must have been hesitating for too long, because Eddie sighed as he wriggled out of Richie's grip, and flopped into the chair himself.

"You think too much sometimes, do you know that?" he asked as he pushed himself up using the chair's arms. Once he seemed satisfied with his position, he smiled. "This is perfect. Now, how do I work the controls?"

Richie sat down on the guest bed, pulling out the pamphlet that had come with the wheelchair, and walked Eddie through all of the controls. Not like he knew what he was doing, so they learned together, and shared many laughs together as Eddie kept almost knocking into everything. But they finally got it down pat, and Eddie followed Richie into the kitchen and even helped him make them a big breakfast. The conversation flowed easily between them and afterward, when they headed to the bathroom to take care of Eddie's bandage, Richie's palms didn't even sweat as he touched the mermaid.

Though, the actually important part, was the wound was looking good. It was closing up already, and Eddie had to remind Richie once again that mermaids healed differently than humans, when Richie had started freaking out.

"Yeah, 'differently' meaning 'freakishly fast like something out of a science fiction movie,'" Richie had said. "You could have warned me about that, since you obviously knew there were 'differences.'"

Eddie had simply laughed at him and asked him where they were going first.

The answer was unfortunately boring. Richie had ending up lending Eddie a shirt of his to wear, after realizing that he couldn't let him go out into public all indecent, and his heart had practically beat out of his chest at the sight of Eddie in said shirt. The button up was a little baggy on him, so even though Eddie had buttoned it up all the way, there still was enough space between fabric and skin that Richie could see Eddie's collarbone peaking through. It shouldn't be affecting him so much, considering Eddie had been shirtless the entire time. What was he? A stupid Victorian? He couldn't handle seeing Eddie's collarbone through a dumb shirt with a teddy bear cowboy print. Now _that_ was pathetic. He tried to avoid looking up at Eddie, and how fucking handsome he looked, as he tucked a blanket around his tail.

So yeah, their first stop was a clothing store.

He told Eddie to go wild and pick out whatever he wanted, but that hadn't worked out too well, since Eddie had never had to shop for clothes before. Richie ended up helping him pick a few shirts out, although he felt bad that he might be forcing his fashion sense onto Eddie.

"Well, if I find out that it doesn't work for me, I can just change it later on, right?" Eddie asked.

Richie nodded because he couldn't trust his voice to work as he thought about Eddie staying with him long enough to warrant buying more clothes on top of the eight shirts they ended up taking to the register. As the cashier was ringing them up, Eddie fondly gazed at some watches there were locked up in a display on the counter.

"Is that everything for you today?" the cashier asked once she had folded the shirts and placed them into a bag.

"Uh, almost," Richie said before turning to Eddie. "Hey, which one do you want? It looks like they're all waterproof, so pick whichever one you want."

"Oh no, I possibly couldn't," Eddie said. "It's not a necessity like the shirts are."

"So? It looks like you really want one, and I'm offering."

God knows what the cashier must have thought of them and the conversation. Richie decided he honestly didn't care, despite his entire life being based around caring what people thought of him, and focused on Eddie and convincing him to pick a watch. He deserved a present. And the wheelchair didn't count, Richie thought. Just as the shirts were a necessity, it was as well, if Eddie wanted to able to blend into the human world. He egged Eddie on, elbowing his shoulder. Eddie sighed, although he didn't look as if he was actually put out by Richie's embarrassing behavior, and he pointed to a black calculator watch.

Finally turning back to the poor cashier, Richie said, "Alright. And we'll take that watch, and then that's everything."

"Right away, sir," she said, smile never once wavering.

Eddie started to protest once he heard the total, insisting he knew what was considered 'too much' when Richie told him not to worry about it. He swiped his credit card before Eddie could bitch some more.

"If you think that was expensive, just wait until you see our bill from the gay bar," Richie said as they left the store. "I mean, if that's still what you want to do. But there are a million other possibilities. We can catch a movie or go to a park."

"No, I definitely still want to visit the gay community," Eddie said. They had reached Richie's car, and Richie was setting the bag in the trunk, when Eddie reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Uh, can you open the watch so I can wear it now?"

"Absolutely, my good sir. Mind if I ask about the fascination with watches?" he asked as he fumbled with the annoying plastic packaging.

"Yeah, of course. It's not anything exciting. I just think they're interesting. As well as just the whole..." Eddie waved his hand around. "The concept of time. We don't really have that in the ocean. I never really realized how anxiety inducing it was that 'time' just seems to drag on with no clear definition until I started coming up and observing humans, but I like the thought that there can be very distinct time periods and deadlines for things to be done."

"Man, I actually _hate_ deadlines," Richie admitted. "Steve is always on my ass, like, 'Why haven't you finished that set of new jokes I asked for a month ago?' and it's like, 'I don't know Steve. Maybe because I have depression."

Giving up, Richie started biting at the plastic, causing Eddie to literally scream.

"You're going to destroy your teeth! And, wait, you're depressed?"

"Not right now," Richie answered truthfully. "Now, here is your watch, good sir."

Richie bowed before putting the watch on Eddie's wrist.

"You didn't set it to the right time, did you?" Eddie asked with a laugh. "Thank you, though."

"You're welcome. For both getting it open and _not_ setting the time. You don't want me doing that. I don't even know what time it is. All I know is that it's five o'clock somewhere! Now to the bar!"

Richie had picked a clothing store near their actual destination, so they were able to make their way leisurely to the bar and leave the car behind. Eddie was operating the wheelchair like such a pro that no one would have been able to guess that he had only gotten it that morning. They did get a few stares despite that, and Richie felt oddly defensive, and that turned into full on anger when they got to the bar and he realized that there was no ramp. As he was wont to do, because it was oddly enough his go to coping method, he was already forming some jokes in his head about how they needed to work on accommodating differently abled people as he lifted up Eddie's chair so he could get into the bar. The thing was so fucking heavy, he was amazed that he managed to make it work, and in celebration he immediately ordered himself a couple of shots when he got to the bar.

"And what would you like, Eds?"

"That's all for you?" Eddie asked, nose wrinkling in disgust. Richie wanted nothing more than to kiss the tip of that nose. "Uh, I've only really ever had moonshine, and I know for a fact that's too strong for me, so what would you recommend?"

"Let's be stereotypical for a minute, how about that?" Richie said, mostly to himself. He turned to the bartender, who had already poured the shots of whiskey and was waiting impatiently. "Can I also get two Sex on the Beaches as well? And start a tab."

"Oh, this isn't going to end well, is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Eddie. We're about to have a blast. So, welcome to the gay community! How do you feel so far?"

"A little claustrophobic," Eddie admitted. "I wasn't exactly expecting _this_ , but it does look like it's a fun place."

"Oh yeah, it might not be 100% fun right now. I'm sure it's totally hopping once it gets later. Sadly, our like whole thing as gay men, is night life."

Richie threw back his last shot and then drank half of his Sex on the Beach in one giant gulp. Eddie had cautiously been sipping his, and Richie may have felt a little bad, but it had been awhile since he had a drink. (Well, other than the previous night, but that had been a special circumstance.) He had made the promise that he wouldn't drink alone as much, but he was always alone, so that had meant no alcohol since he had finished his last tour. Okay, so he may have had a little bit of a problem, but that was a problem for another day. Because he currently had a different problem, and that was that he was hitting the point where he was tipsy enough that he thought he was God's gift to men. He was two seconds away from heading out onto the dance floor, even though he had not a single rhythmic bone in his body. Thankfully, though, he had Eddie with him, and he wasn't about to ditch him at the bar just to be laughed off of the dance floor. But he was stupid enough to finish his drink, rest his chin in his hands, and turn to Eddie so he could say...

"I wish I could dance with you."

"What's stopping you?" Eddie asked around his straw, and shit.

Now Richie was thinking about some _real_ dirty dancing. Grinding on each other. Eddie's mouth around him. Okay, not exactly dirty dancing. He was just thinking of straight up fucking.

"Well, I don't really think that we can do it since, you know." Richie gestured up and down Eddie's body, and Eddie quirked an eyebrow. "You don't have legs."

Richie could hear the bartender scoff behind him and mumble, 'Don't think you're taking _him_ home, buddy.'

"Why isn't the music unbearably loud for once?" he mumbled. "It's always so loud you can't think, and for some reason, it's quiet enough I can hear myself getting roasted. No thanks."

"Well, you deserved it," Eddie said, crossing his arms. "So we might not be able to dance in the traditional sense, but the least you can do is try. Because I would like to try as many human things as I can, so take me to the dance floor, Richie."

"Mermaids don't dance?" Richie asked. "I imagine it'd be like that weird swimming dance thing they have at the Olympics. Just twisting all around each other and shit."

"Just take me to the fucking dance floor, dickwad."

Richie couldn't help but laugh. He held out his hand for Eddie to take and then they both realized it was the one he needed to control his wheelchair. And so they started off with an awkward dance of sorts as Richie ducked to the other side, taking that hand instead, and leading Eddie to the dance floor. There was no one else in that part of the bar, probably because it had barely hit lunch time, so Richie didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself too much. Just in front of Eddie, the person he would want to impress the most. He attempted to apologize in advance, but the music was much louder there, and after Eddie yelled 'what' about four times, he just gave up and started shimmying around Eddie's wheelchair. Every time he passed around the front, he could see that Eddie was laughing, but he was moving the chair back and forth, and frankly looked silly himself. So Richie didn't feel too bad.

Though he definitely looked the silliest. 

He knew that.

He wasn't sure how long they danced for, but it was long enough for things to pick up at the bar and others to join them on the dance floor. it was long enough for him to start to sober up a little bit despite having two shots and a rather heavy handed Sex on the Beach. He didn't want to be the first to suggest another drink, because he knew how he had looked to Eddie who didn't drink often. He couldn't help that he did have a higher tolerance for alcohol. So they did their thing for another couple of songs as the other patrons danced around them, before Eddie said he was ready to head back to the bar. Richie waved down the bartender and asked for another Sex on the Beach, because Eddie admitted he had really liked it, and then whatever beer was on tap for himself. He closed the tab once the bartender returned with their drinks, smirking at him as the bartender stared between him and Eddie in disbelief.

Like, yeah, he was still going home with that stud. Suck it, bartender.

Even though it wasn't like he was _going home_ with him, but the bartender didn't need to know that.

Richie carried their drinks as Eddie led them to a table that was up against the wall. He set them down so he could move the one chair out of the way so Eddie could maneuver his wheelchair in that space and then sat down in the other himself. He raised his bottle up and proposed a toast to Eddie's swift recovery. Eddie rolled his eyes but tapped his glass against Richie's bottle before taking a rather large sip of his Sex on the Beach.

"So, would you say this was a successful trip?" Richie asked as he played with the label on his bottle.

It wasn't that hot out, but it was still already covered in condensation, causing the label to peel up. What was Richie supposed to do? Leave it alone? Yeah, right.

Eddie laughed as Richie crumbled the label up and threw it on top of the table.

"As successful as you making a mess of our table despite only being here for a minute."

Richie shrugged.

"I'll take it."

"Good, because in all seriousness, yes. It was a successful trip. I really enjoyed myself. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much. Which isn't to say that my friends back home aren't great. I don't know what I would have done with Mike and Bev there for me, but it's different with you, you know?"

Richie's mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry. He chugged the rest of his beer quickly before nodding.

"Yeah, uh, I know what you mean."

"Richie," Eddie said, reaching over the table to take his hand. "As fun as today has been, I'm feeling a little worn out. I feel like going home, if that's alright with you."

Richie was still trying to wrap his head around Eddie calling the bungalow 'home' as he nodded. Eddie still hadn't even finished his drink, and normally Richie would egg on the person to chug the rest, but he didn't even want to wait another second. He had a feeling that _something_ was about to happen. He hadn't been imagining everything. He was so excited that he wasn't even angry about having to pick up Eddie's wheelchair to get him down out of the bar. In that moment, he felt as if he was built like a superhero. Just slap some tights on and call him Super Trashmouth.

The drive home was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Especially since Eddie grabbed Richie's hand once more as soon as they had gotten into the car and held it the entire way. He looked almost pained when he had to let it go once they had pulled into the garage, and once Richie had set him back into his wheelchair, he grabbed his arm and dragged him to the guest room.

"Get down here and kiss me," he demanded.

Richie didn't need to be told twice.

He leaned down and kissed Eddie gently, but Eddie wasn't having any of that. He ran his tongue along the seem of Richie's lips, and Richie was too weak to deny him anything. The kiss went from sweet to dirty in a second, and Richie realized he wasn't going to be able to keep it up while standing. Without breaking the kiss, he backed up and collapsed onto the bed, and his neck immediately thanked him. But the new position was wonderful for a lot of other reasons, because now he could get his hands _all_ over Eddie without having to reach. He snuck one into Eddie's shirt -- _his_ shirt -- and ran it all over his chest while being mindful of the bandages.

Eddie moaned softly as he pulled back, causing Richie to chase after him, looking no doubt like a fucking guppy fish.

"How do you wear shirts all the time?" Eddie asked as his fingers fumbled with the buttons. "It feels so restricting but also just... now there's all this extra work we have to do so you can properly touch me."

"Nnngghhh," Richie replied intelligently. 

"You still with me, Rich?"

"My brain is mush. I didn't think that this would actually happen. Like, God, Eds. You're so beautiful and there's _literally_ so many other fish in the sea, and you want to do this with me?"

Eddie's eyes softened and he ran his fingers through Richie's hair, which he sure was all messed up already.

"Of course. You're the nicest person I have ever met."

Richie snorted.

"Most people would disagree with you there."

"Well, they're wrong then. You interrupted your day to help me. Not many people would do that in itself, but then you opened your home to me and bought me the supplies I'd need while staying here. You made me feel less alone and told me about the gay community, but not only that, you then took me out so I could experience it. How could I not want you?"

"Careful there, Eds," Richie said, trying to discreetly wipe away some tears that had gathered in the corner of his eye. "That almost sounds more like a confession and less like convincing the self conscious otter that he's attractive."

Eddie quirked his head to the side.

"What are you talking about? You're not an otter, and it _is_ more than just letting you know you're attractive, obviously. Although I _was_ getting to that part next. Because you _are_ extremely attractive."

"Eh, there's a lot of other stuff I can teach you about the gay community, but that's not important right now. Eddie, are you saying that you like me?"

Eddie was starting to look exasperated. He grabbed Richie's face in his hands, squishing his cheeks.

"I mean, obviously, yes. But if that's the way humans express that they're interested in getting romantically involved with each other, then yes. I really like you Richie."

"Thank fuck. I really like you too, Eddie."

Eddie pulled Richie down and back into a kiss. He missed at first and ended up mainly making out with Richie's cheek, his stubble audibly scratching against Eddie's lips, and he hadn't realized that could be a thing for him, but Jesus Christ. It was fucking hot. And then it was even hotter when Eddie trailed his lips across Richie's face and connected with his and they started kissing passionately once more. Richie opened his mouth and started sucking on Eddie's tongue. He shuddered against Richie as his hands made quick work of his shirt, and then it was all skin on skin, and Richie practically melted into the blanket. Eddie pulled away with a laugh and then pushed Richie further back on the bed before, almost effortlessly, sliding from his wheelchair and pulling himself up next to him.

"For the love of God, please take your pants off," he rasped out.

Richie had never shed a pair of pants faster in his life.

And then he took off his underwear as well, for good measure, since that was obviously the direction they were heading.

"Huh," Eddie muttered.

"That doesn't exactly instill confidence in me," Richie said, although he tried to pass it off as a joke. He knew as soon as he said it that he failed, however. "Normally guys are like 'oh, it's so big' or 'I can't wait to get that in me' or whatever."

"Those options both sound horrible." Richie looked off to the side, tilting his head, before having to nod in agreement. "Anyway, they also happen to know what your autonomy looks like before getting your pants off. This is the first time I've seen a human's genitals."

"Oh yeah, _now_ that's dirty talk. Tell me more about my genitals."

"They're pretty similar to mine although there is a few differences," Eddie said, and Richie was about to tell him he was being sarcastic again, but he saw the little evil smirk on Eddie's face. "Also, in all seriousness, I feel that with what you have and what I have, you won't be able to... how did you put it? 'Get it in me.'"

"Hey, that's totally fine," Richie said quickly. "There's so much else we can do. Hands, mouths, hell even frotting. I'm a big fan of all of it. I mean, we can even just stick to kissing for now and I wouldn't mind."

"You really do have a lot to still teach me," Eddie said with wide eyes. "And I want to try all of it. But we can still have sex. I would just have to be the one penetrating."

Richie felt like one of those gross wolves in old timey cartoons, because he just knew he was drooling as he stared at Eddie like he was a piece of meat. Except, like, he hadn't even seen his meat yet. He trusted Eddie when he said that it would work, but he had to admit he was a little concerned about how it was going to work, and that's when it hit him that he was literally about to have sex with someone who was _from a different species_. He probably should have been disgusted by that, but he only dwelled on that for a second, and then had no trouble admitting to himself that he found it stupid hot.

Even if Eddie kept using such technical terms for everything. If he kept it up, Richie was going to develop a new kink.

"Uh, fuck yeah," he answered, once he realized he had just been giving Eddie heart eyes for who knows how long. "I am totally down for that. I'm actually more of a bottom anyway. Guys just see the big dick and expect me to top."

"Top and bottom? Okay, those terms make sense," Eddie said, still sounding as if he was studying gay terminology rather than about to get down and dirty. "Much more so than a lot of the other stuff you've been saying. So, you're alright with me being top?"

Richie groaned.

"If you keep saying shit like that, I'm going to blow my load before you even touch me."

"Well, we can't have that after all the tension the past two days," Eddie said. "Now, uh, my dick isn't on the outside, as you must have noticed. So, don't freak out, okay?"

"Aw, Eds, you couldn't freak me out," Richie said, running a comforting hand up Eddie's side. But then his fingers accidentally scratched Eddie as he jumped back and cried out, "Holy shit!" as Eddie's dick just, like, fucking sprang out of nowhere.

Eddie pulled back and hid his face in his hands.

"You said you wouldn't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," Richie insisted as he continued to do exactly that. "That was surprise. Totally different emotion. You could have warned me what I was supposed to be preparing for. But now that it's all out in the open, quite literally, I am ready to get this show on the road. Are those... bumps?"

Eddie still hadn't emerged from behind his hands, so it was mumbled when he answered, "Yeah. I'm sorry it looks so weird compared to yours."

"Hey now, don't say that. It doesn't look weird. It just looks as if it's more so built for his pleasure," Richie said. And yeah, he was totally back on board now. "Um, yeah, I know we agreed that it sounds kinda stupid to say this, but I can't wait to get that in me. Hold on. I have lube around here somewhere."

Richie reached blindly behind him and miraculously managed to get the drawer of the bed side table open and find the tube of lube that was stashed there. Figuring that they probably didn't have lube in the ocean, he suggested that he open himself up for Eddie this time, and Eddie agreed, as long as he got to watch. As if Richie was going to let Eddie out of his sight to go prepare in the bathroom. He scoffed and gave Eddie a sweet kiss before he slicked up his fingers. At this point in his life, he was an expert at fingering himself, since he never got to this point with any of the guys he had hooked up with. And, after finally coming out, he had only a handful of actual relationships, and they almost never lasted that long. And as he had told Eddie, most guys expected him to top anyway, so if he wanted to get some ass play in, he was usually on his own. 

Point being, he got himself opened in record time, and then straddled Eddie.

"I don't really think you can get much thrusting done with the tail, so I'm going to ride you, if that's alright?"

"Yeah," Eddie said breathlessly.

Richie almost felt a little bad then about leaning down to kiss him, stealing even more of his breath away, but he'd live. Richie sighed into the kiss as he reached back and positioned Eddie's cock with his hole. Already picking up a few tricks from Richie, Eddie used the opportunity to swirl his tongue around Richie's. It was obviously a little inexperienced and definitely a little messy, but God damn if it wasn't hot. Richie was honestly so proud of him. He tried to match Eddie's enthusiasm as he started lowering himself down onto his cock, but it _was_ a little hard to concentrate as he took him in. He wasn't as long and thick as Richie was, but the bumps definitely were a pleasant new sensation. Richie had never been one to get weird looking dildos, sticking to the boring ones that looked like disembodied regular old human dicks, but he imagined that it must have been similar. And now he knew why they were so damn popular, because he was pretty sure he had just seen God, and he hadn't even started moving yet.

"You feel so good," he managed to slur out, sounding drunker than he had when they'd been in the bar. The truth was, however, he felt shockingly sober in the moment. He was incredibly happy for that, because he wanted to be able to remember every single second of this. "So good, Eds. Fuckin' me so good."

"You do too. Feel good, too," Eddie said through gritted teeth, and Richie knew what that meant.

He tried not to laugh at Eddie's adorable scrunched up face, lest he thought Richie was laughing at how close he was already. Because there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. He was dangerously close himself, and he hadn't even touched his cock yet, so it wasn't as if he could judge.

Yeah, he had never bought those weird looking dildos, but he wondered if he had ever actively made fun of them. He wasn't entirely sure, but if he had, he silently offered his apologies. The bumps, or ridges, or whatever you wanted to call them that were all along Eddie's cock felt fucking heavenly. They would catch on his rim each time he pulled himself up, and they managed to pleasure him in places he didn't even know existed each time he buried Eddie in him.

He was already moaning, because he was just a loud dude in general, but then Eddie wrapped his hand around his cock, and Richie was done for.

"Fuck, Eds. It's so good. You're so good at this. Fuckin' natural, huh? God, I could sit on your dick forever. Just never leave the bed ever again. I'm going to keep you here and just warm myself on your cock all the time. Fuck touring. I'm quitting comedy and just staying in bed with you all day."

He knew he was babbling, because it's always what he ended up doing when he got fucked good, but for once he refused to be embarrassed about it. He needed Eddie to know how good he was feeling. Which he was pretty sure that he was getting _that_ point across, but Eddie also had to know everything else that was tumbling through Richie's head. 

"You look so beautiful up there," Eddie said, his hand starting to move faster, pumping Richie's cock so hard that normally he'd chastise his partner for probably giving him some major chafing, but he found that when it was Eddie he didn't really give a fuck. "Do you look as beautiful when you come?"

The way Eddie asked, it sounded like a purely innocent question and yet as soon as the words left Eddie's mouth, Richie couldn't hold on any longer. He felt his orgasm hit him like a Mac truck, and he fell against Eddie's chest as he shuddered through it. His come splattered all the way up to Eddie's cheek and Richie gently swatted his hand away once it became too much. He lifted his head, and licked his cum off of Eddie's cheek, leaving a loving kiss once it was clean.

He was surprised that Eddie had been quiet during his orgasm, and when he pulled back it became obvious that Eddie was just loading. His eyes were wide and he was staring up at Richie as if he had never seen him before.

"Oh," he said finally. "You got tighter. You're gripping me so good."

"You trying to turn me on again? Because I'm too old for that. Give a guy a break."

Eddie smirked, reached out, and gave Richie's cock a few more pumps, like the little sex demon he was.

"You're not _that_ old. I know this is our first time, but I have a feeling you can go again" he said. "But if you're done, I don't mind stopping. That was more than I could have wished for."

"Oh no. No, no. I never leave someone hanging, sweetheart. My knees might be too jelly at this point to keep riding you, but I definitely plan to reciprocate."

Richie pulled off of Eddie's cock with a hiss, because _damn_ , it pulled no punches with someone who was over sensitive. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, and then he shuffled down the bed.

"What are you going to do down there?" Eddie asked.

Ah, an innocent, little sex demon.

"Oh, I'm going to rock your world," Richie answered before leaning forward and sucking on the head of Eddie's cock.

Ew. It had been awhile and he had almost forgotten how gross lube tasted. Thankfully, it dissipated soon enough as he swirled his tongue up and down Eddie's cock. Eddie moaned loudly, burying his hands in Richie's hair, as Richie took his cock into his mouth.

It had been far too long since he had had a cock in his mouth, he thought, as he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the weight of it on his tongue. And then he got to work. He didn't really get to show off any of his signature moves, however, because Eddie really _had_ been close. It only took a few bobs of his head before he was coming down Richie's throat.

Richie was a little disappointed that he hadn't lasted longer, because he loved sucking dick, what could he say? But he did have to admit it was going to take a little getting used to. He hadn't had to worry about his gag reflex in years, but Eddie had actually choked him.

Just a tiny bit, but still.

Richie pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He wanted to kiss Eddie, who looked so beautiful all blissed out, but he was worried that he might be put off by the taste of himself on Richie's lips. He didn't have to be concerned, though, because once Eddie had caught his breath, he launched himself at Richie.

They kissed lazily, and Richie thoroughly lost himself in it that he didn't even care how odd Eddie's scales felt against his softening cock.

(Okay, it wasn't odd. You caught him. It felt fucking amazing, but it really was too soon for him to go again.)

The sun was starting to set when they finally were able to take their hands off each other. 

Richie knew the phrase bruised lips wasn't exactly literal, but he would have sworn his were black and blue at that point.

And he _loved_ it.

By that point, he personally would have been able to keep going, but Eddie's stomach started to growl and he pushed Richie out of the bed.

"I want to make the most romantic dinner we can with what you bought," he said as he eased himself into his wheelchair.

Richie frowned at him from the floor as he wracked his brain for 'romantic foods.' 

Yeah, this was out of his wheelhouse.

"Uh, I can do spaghetti and meatballs," he said once he realized Eddie was starting as him expectantly. "If it's good enough for Lady and Tramp, it's good enough for us, right?"

"You really are going to have to show me all these things you're referencing," Eddie said as Richie slowly and steadily stood up, brushing random carpet crumbs from his sticky skin.

It took Richie far too long to find his boxers on the floor, and he started to get a little self conscious walking around with his chubby ass hanging out on display, but thankfully he found them tossed in one of the corners of the room. He hopped from one foot to the other as he pulled them on and followed Eddie who was already rolling out of the room.

"Well, with how fast you're healing, I guess that means we're having a marathon tonight," he said, bending down to get a pot out of the cabinet.

There was a loud whir as Eddie spun around and wheeled up next to him.

Why did he look furious? Richie was still extra stupid from his orgasm, and he honestly wanted to cry thinking about what he must have done to make Eddie that furious. He had thought they'd had a good time, but he probably fucked up somehow, because he always fucked up eventually. This would be a new record for how fast he had fucked up, however.

"Why do you say that like we won't have time to watch a couple of movies?" Eddie demanded. "You're not kicking me out are you? Have you just been waiting for my wound to close and then you're going to give me the boot?"

"How do you know that phrase when mermaids don't have boots?" Richie asked instead of answering any of Eddie's questions, because they just were so ludicrous to him that he couldn't believe that Eddie would have to ask any of that.

"It was used in one of the cartoons I was watching." Eddie shook his head. "That's not the point. Are you? Giving me the boot?"

"God, no! Of course not! I wouldn't dream of it! Remember? Remember, that's exactly what I told you that first night? But I mean, once you're healed, you're going to want to go back to the ocean, right? And I'm not going to force you to stay here any longer than you need to... to just watch movies with me, you know?"

"I don't have to leave as soon as I'm healed," Eddie said quietly. "I don't even have to leave."

"Do you mean that?" Richie asked, almost dropping the pot he was holding in excitement. "Wait. Don't you _have_ to go back to the ocean?"

"I can survive on land for as long as I need to, remember? I said that the first night," he threw back at Richie. "Obviously it's never been ideal for a mermaid to spend more time on land than necessary. Actually more so because we don't want to be discovered, but also because of the whole 'no legs' situation. But you literally bought me a wheelchair my second day here. You made sure that I was comfortable here. You made sure I knew I was liked. Why _wouldn't_ I want to stay?"

Richie reached over to set the pot down on the table and then whipped back around so he could lean down and hug Eddie.

"You have no idea how happy I am that you say that. I already can't even imagine what it would be like here if you left. It'd be so quiet."

"With you living here?" Eddie asked with a scoff. His hand had found it's way into Richie's hair and he was petting him softly. "I highly doubt that. Even talking to yourself, I bet you're loud."

"How did you know I talk to myself?"

"Someone who loves his own voice enough to make a living talking to people must talk to himself. It's a no brainer."

Richie laughed.

"That actually checks out. I think I might have to use that as a bit in my next set."

"You're absolutely welcome to it. Even though you were so oblivious that despite saying that it sounded like I was confessing yourself, you ignored my confession and thought that I was just going to use you and leave you, and _that's_ what people should be laughing at."

"Hey, I never said that I was the sharpest tool in the shed. Which you should probably know before you in any way commit yourself to me."

"Yeah, I think I realized that when you guiltily admitted you disinfected my wound with whiskey."

Hhmmmm. Probably shouldn't have told him that.

Richie could have kept firing zingers back and forth with Eddie for the rest of time, but with another well timed growl of Eddie's stomach, he straightened up and went back to making their spaghetti. As the water boiled, he and Eddie sat at the table ripping apart some bread so they could make meatballs. They talked about meaningless stuff -- like the spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp and how Richie work shopped his new comedy sets and some of the crazy things Eddie had found that had been dumped in the ocean -- because they knew there were some very serious conversations to be had in the future.

(And they had just made love for the first time, and who wanted to spoil that moment right away?)

It was one thing for Eddie to decide to stay, but there was the little matter of the fact that he wasn't technically human. Richie knew that if Eddie was ever going to have a life outside of the bungalow, they were going to have to get him an identity. Well, a government issued identity. Obviously he already had an actual one. And he was sure that Eddie would want to go back to the ocean sometimes, because he seemed like the type of person who wouldn't simply abandon his friends, so they were going to have to get good at sneaking him there without anyone seeing.

And Richie was going to have to tell his mom that he had someone living with him before she dropped by for her next visit. Because that clearly was a problem on par with the previous two. You would know that if you knew Richie's mother. She would balk if you suggested it to her face, but she was rather nosy, and loved to good naturedly gossip. Especially when it came to her son. She'd be devastated if she found out that he had a boyfriend by dropping in for a visit and finding Eddie there. 

Most likely in the living room watching cartoons.

It seemed he was addicted to them, going by how he was asking Richie if Lady and the Tramp was a cartoon, then, and if so...

"Can we watch that while we eat?"

"Yeah, babe. Whatever you want to watch first."

And then that's when it hit Richie like a ton of bricks. He had a boyfriend. Eddie, the hot mermaid, was his boyfriend. Well, at least he was positive that's what they were. That was another serious conversation they were going to have at some point. Hopefully it was a resounding yes since Eddie had made it evident that he was staying because of his connection with Richie, but it was always smart to communicate rather than assume. Richie may not have been the best at relationships, but he knew that much. And if there was one thing he was excellent at, it was communicating.

Eddie had been right that he loved to talk and loved the sound of his own voice.

Though he was so fucking happy that he was going to have Eddie living with him permanently and, that instead of just his annoying ass, he was going to get to hear Eddie's laugh every day.

Because he had already made it a goal to make Eddie laugh every day. He didn't think it would be that hard. He was doing it at that moment, tossing bread crumbs across the table at his face. And wow, his smile was brighter than the sun could ever be.

Richie had never thought he'd find himself living in Los Angeles, but he was incredibly thankful that he had made the decision.


End file.
